It started with two emails I received — both touching something in me that needed to crack open.
Not in a dramatic way. Nothing loud. Just a subtle acknowledgment I didn’t expect.

A gentle, almost whispered thought: “Oh. I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

Not the only one carrying the quiet struggle to accept myself.
Not the only one who’s felt lonely in rooms full of people.
Not the only one searching for a place to belong, even as an adult.

In that brief moment, I felt a wind of change move through me.
Very soft, almost invisible — the kind you’d miss unless you were really paying attention.

But I felt it.
Something inside me did, anyway.

As if an old echo finally reached me… the voice of the younger me who’d been waiting, watching, hoping I’d stop long enough to notice her again.

And that’s when the emotion hit — the tears, the tension, the expansion, the sense that I’m standing right at the edge of something.

A little scared.
A little excited.
A mix of both, which felt strange and expansive at the same time.

And then, only after all of this — after the initial wave rolled through — the music arrived.

Out of nowhere, BTS again: We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal.

I didn’t look for it.

It just appeared, like a gentle nudge from the universe (and my soul squad) saying, “See? You’re not imagining this. You’re not alone in any of it.”

That song didn’t start the realisation — it confirmed it.

It reflected everything I’d been feeling but didn’t know how to say.
It reminded me that there are people out there who struggle to put their experience into words…
and somehow music does it for them.
For me.
For us.

Maybe that’s the thread running through all of this — the quiet, unseen connection between people who feel deeply but speak softly.
The ones figuring themselves out in slow, emotional waves.
The ones who don’t want a crown or a pedestal — just a place among others who get it.

And maybe this is where I finally start to belong.

Not because everything suddenly makes sense…but because I’m actually listening now.
To the echoes. To the wind. To the music.
To myself.

And as strange as it sounds, there’s something comforting in realising I’m not doing this alone.
There are people out there feeling their way through the same messiness…hearing their own songs at the exact moment they need them…trying to make sense of who they were, who they are, and who they’re becoming.

Maybe that’s the real connection here — not the big moments, not the loud ones, but the quiet recognition between people who feel deeply and move through the world a little differently.

I think that’s where I’m landing for now.

Just… letting myself be here.

Listening.

Learning.

And trusting that the right song, the right nudge, the right person, will keep showing up when I’m ready for it.